


The Thief King and Video Games

by milliekou, Riyawrithi



Series: Family! AU [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: F/M, Family, Gaming, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milliekou/pseuds/milliekou, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riyawrithi/pseuds/Riyawrithi
Summary: Bakura is sat at home, playing with video games and talking to his baby son, confident that he's the best the tomb robber ever. But Malik has other ideas.





	The Thief King and Video Games

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the Family AU that Milliekou and I have been developing together. Thanks to her for providing feedback on this fic as well. She's at Milliekou.tumblr.com.
> 
> This is written in British English, so some words mean different things; "Jumper" is British English, but in American English is "sweater". That one is relevant for part of Malik's description.

"Don't you think he's a bit young to watch you playing violent video games, Bakura?"

 

Malik sat leisurely in the living room of their home on the leather sofa, staring down at her husband and their baby sat next to him on the floor. She wore a pair of black shorts and a purple jumper, woolly and loose; it was a good match for her eyes, Bakura thought. He sat cross-legged next to her on the left, wearing some slightly ripped jeans and a dark grey T-shirt, barefoot. Close to him one the floor was an old games console, plugged into the back of the large, blocky TV in front of them. In his hands Bakura held its sole working controller, carefully pushing the two thumbsticks and buttons to navigate the world of the game he played. On Bakura's left sat their baby, wearing a dark red onesie. He had dark skin and purple eyes like his mother, but had inherited Bakura's unruly white hair. He'd also inherited, or perhaps learned, his father's willingness to interfere with other people's games, occasionally trying to climb over Bakura's leg and play with the controller.

 

"It's fine, it's fine," Bakura replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, not taking his eyes off the screen. "This game's so old the characters barely look like people. He's not going to be scarred for life, unless he can get a crippling phobia of jagged polygons. You're fine with this, aren't you?"

He cast a glance to his left, where their son sat, apparently paying him no mind, his large purple eyes locked on the video game."See, I thought so."

Malik rolled her eyes. "Suit yourselves. But if he grows up desensitised to violence and turns out like you, I'll kill you."

Bakura chuckled. "If he ends up like that, it'll be your fault for saying things like that, thank you very much.”

Malik shrugged and stood up, carefully avoiding stepping on her son or husband. She briefly considered being merciful, but then decided messing with Bakura was too much fun for that, and walked towards the kitchen, stepping in front of the screen as she went with a smirk. "Watch it! I nearly got killed!" Bakura barked, pausing the game to face her. On the screen, his character was backed against a wall, a spinning blade a mere handful of pixels away from cutting him in half. Malik cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so? And here I thought you were the thief king. A video game can't be anywhere near as hard as raiding real tombs, can it?"

Realising he had no retort, Bakura scoffed and turned back to his game. He sometimes wished he'd married someone a little less venomous, but then, every day was fun with Malik. He felt quite certain he'd find a way to get her back for that one later. Beside him, the baby giggled, looking up at him with amusement. Bakura smile back at him and tousled the white hair the child had inherited. “I'm glad you're amused.”

 

He unpaused the game, continuing his exploration of an ancient tomb. On the screen, a rather jagged and low poly brown, red-clad figure ran, jumped, and flipped around; the low poly avatar Bakura had chosen for himself. It was about as close to looking like his old self as he was ever likely to get.

"...As I was saying, this just isn't accurate at all. This entire tomb.." He spoke, addressing the baby. Of course, the little one couldn't understand what Bakura was saying, but Bakura did enjoy narrating things to him. He pointed to the screen; ahead of Bakura in a tall but narrow passageway was a long gap. A metal grid covered it, the gaps revealing a long drop into the darkness below. Squinting and leaning in close to the screen, Bakura carefully pushed the left thumbstick, inching his character closer to the grid. He frowned, hearing a sound...A deep hissing sound, quite but rapidly growing louder. He realised what it was with a start, and slammed the thumbstick back, recoiling from the TV himself as pillars of roaring fire burst through the grid in front of him. “Heheh,” he chuckled “I got too into it.”

A clicking sound could be heard from underfoot as his character stepped back, and the flames dissipated; a pressure plate. He'd been expecting something like that. It seemed there was a row of them in front of the grid. Walking onto the grid without triggering the flames would be impossible...He could try jumping over them, but a quick glance at the edges discounted that possibility; they were on hinges, with what looked to be some kind of mechanism to push them back up. He suspected that if he jumped over the pressure plates, his impact on the grid would cause it top open, sending him into the abyss below.

 

“There's no way that would work, you know.” Bakura said, glancing down at the baby. “For starters, that hissing sounded like gas. Where are they getting pressurised gas on demand, in an ancient tomb? And how do they light it? They could use fire, but how do they keep the fire going? They need air, heat, at fuel. They can't have an infinite supply. It's so unrealistic...”

The baby looked up at him with a confused look; almost as if it could understand and wanted to point out the absurdity of complaining about realism in a game specifically designed for escapism.

"Don't look at me like that," Bakura said, faking a hurt tone. "I'm entitled to nitpick. I have experience in this sort of thing. The level designers should hire me...Or at least as a consultant."

He heard Malik laugh behind him, re-entering the room with a cup of juice which she set down on a low table, before sitting down next to Bakura on his right. "You'd be a terrible consultant," she said, making herself comfortable. "You'd take all the fun out of it in order to be "realistic". I bet your Monster World settings are grim and dark, aren't they?"

Bakura blushed a bit. He couldn't hide anything from that Malik. These days, she could read him like a book. "...Maybe."

"Anyway, you're missing the point.." Malik paused for a moment, reaching across Bakura and scooping up the baby, who'd begun climbing over Bakura's leg, and setting him down in her lap. "You're supposed to be raiding the tomb, yes, but more importantly you're supposed to be defeating the ancient evil that lies within. Did you get too wrapped up scheming your theft and forget to pay attention to the plot? Here, let me have a go. I bet I make a better thief king than you."

Bakura scoffed at that. "Fine, be my guest."

 

He shifted up on to the sofa, keeping his legs crossed and out of Malik's way. She scooped up the baby, then scooted across to where Bakura had been sat, setting down the baby in her lap and picking up the controller. A few minutes passed, and after taking a few moments to adjust to the controls and complain about them ("Why is Triangle to jump, anyway? That's a stupid choice."), Malik began making her way further into the tomb. As she progressed, she dodged several traps, seeing pressure plates early and stepping around them, and taking care to scale some vines instead of a rope; Bakura was hoping she'd go for it, as it would have snapped and dropped her onto some spikes, but she chose the vines instead, scoffing that she wouldn't be fooled that easily.

In her lap, their baby giggled happily, enjoying watching the game, even if he didn't understand what was going on. He reached out to the controller while Malik was distracted, losing his balance and falling against Malik's arm, slamming a thumbstick far to the left as he snagged it. On screen, Bakura's character sprinted to the left, just in time for a series of spinning blades to shoot past where she'd been a moment earlier, triggered by a tripwire Malik hadn't noticed herself break.

"Did you see that?!" Asked Malik loudly, looking over at Bakura. “Mother-Son Teamwork! Aren't you proud?”

Bakura seemed to deflate, slumping back against the sofa with a heavy, if exaggerated sigh. “No,” he said. “I'm the Thief King. How can you two be better tomb robbers than me?”

"Not anymore.” Malik smirked. “And since you admitted you lost, you're cooking dinner tonight. And use the cooker, okay? Not sticks over fires, old man."

"Certainly. And if it's too bland, I'll borrow some of that salt you're rubbing in my wounds."

In Malik's lap, the baby laughed and clapped his hands. “Do you think he's enjoying the banter, or asking to see more of the game?” Bakura asked, looking curiously down at the smiling baby.

“Perhaps he just has your sense of humour and enjoys seeing your misery.” Malik suggested. “Do you want to have another try? You might be able to win back your honour.”

"You're on,” Bakura replied, grinning at the challenge, “but if I escape this lava trap in under 30 seconds, you have to admit I'm the winner after all. ”

Malik raised an eyebrow. "30 seconds? There's no way the designers made it possible to escape that so quickly."

"Hah! I didn't get to be the thief king by only winning when the odds were in my favour, you know..." Bakura replies, sitting up a bit straighter.

"Alright, alright, have a go if you think you can do. But can the bragging, or the baby's going to grow up thinking you're amazing and be crushed by the horrible reality..."

"'Horrible reality'? You still love me though..."

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for lost causes..."


End file.
